Coherency alludes
My work exudes inferiority
Aesthetically pleasing fragments cobbled together
Mimicking meaning
Halfbaked ideas trying to become conviction
Most messages works of fiction
The balance beam I’ve fallen off of
Between elitism and redundancy
All these cords missed trying to be profound
You have to rhyme
But not all the time
Because that would be childish
You run the risk
Of your metaphor lacking depth
I’ve grown adept at saying words so they have the right pacing
Wasting ink crossing out mistakes
Retakes done over and over

Is it moing enough?

Is it real enough?

Is it original enough?

Is it good enough?

Is it long enough?

Length has never been my strength

Has my search tainted my work?

I should be writing but I'm not

I'm ranting

Planting themes never truly explored

Introducing new things so you don't get bored

And realize that this is all

Cynicism paraded as realism

Where's the positivity

It's a part of me not meant for here

Let's make one thing clearet

Happy isn't meant for my poems

This is catharsis

So I can grow

You have to let go of the past

It never works

My feelings get trapped

Because no one wants to hear all this frustration 

You can't use I

To personalized

It has to be relatable 

Anger shouldn't be one size fits all

Waiting for the right words feelings idle

Like a car sitting in the closed garage

Your intentiins are hazy

Your brain fazed

What were you trying to say?

The meanings misconstrued

This was supposed to be powerful

Now it's just echoes of what someone else said

To lost in your own head

There is such a thing as too much perspective

I should be writing.